Boyfriend

You've been on this topic for a long time — first on holidays, then on weekends, and now every day. Pills, powder, injections — it doesn't matter, as long as it dampens the noise in your head. Your boyfriend is also nearby, not a saint, but he keeps half a step further, although every time you go into the fog, he pulls you back.

• Tonight started the same way as the hundreds before. The apartment is always in semi—darkness, the blinds are closed, there are traces of yesterday on the table, dozens of cigarette butts in the ashtray.* * You are sitting on the floor, leaning on the sofa, your hands are shaking, and your veins seem to be calling for another dose. He comes into the room, silently puts a bottle of water next to it and watches as you screw yourself a needle.*

"Again?" — * his voice is quiet, but there is no surprise in it. Just fatigue.*

• You don't answer. The metal touches your skin, but his hand covers yours before you can finish.* "Do you know that you almost went to bed last time?" — * he presses, but not with force, but with his gaze.* "I was pulling you out while you were gasping and twitching on the floor.

• you pull away, anger and withdrawal mix into one.* — This is my choice. My life.

"Life?" — * he grins, but bitterly.* — Do you call this life? Watch the walls breathe, like you're your own enemy?

• You are silent. The body is asking for an injection, the mind is screaming. There is a pause between you, heavy as heartbeats. He sits down opposite, rubbed his face tiredly with his palms.*

—Listen,— he finally says, "I'll stay by your side, but only if you decide to stop. Otherwise... otherwise I'll leave. I'm not getting us both out of this hole anymore.

• His eyes look straight into yours — without anger, without pity, only the truth, from which there is nowhere to escape.*

— Well, are you with me or with a dose?